


How to Win Friends and Influence People

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Multi, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Valtteri's got his first goal in his first game as a Flyer. All Claude has to show is a shitty turnover, but that doesn't mean he's not going to do his best to make the new guy feel welcome.





	How to Win Friends and Influence People

They’re loud in the locker room, buzzing from a win they desperately needed - as all wins are right now. Jake’s already caught up between Michal and Gudy, laughing as they pull his gear off to get their hands on bare skin. Some of the others are roughhousing, and Provy’s got Jordan boxed in against the wall. Claude’s happy for them, he’s  _ happy _ he swears but - 

 

The turnover keeps playing in his head, his stomach dropping every time the goal horn goes off in his mind. Claude shakes himself mentally, and tries to focus on getting out of his gear. He watches the guys, checking in on everyone individually as he strips and eventually his gaze lands on Valtteri. 

 

Valtteri’s smiling politely at the guys who stop by long enough to congratulate him, laughing a little at the chirps flying in the room and studiously not staring at the Czechs. Claude doesn’t miss his eyes skipping over to the rookies, though - Jordan’s little whimpers are more than enough enticement and Claude knows just how good Ivan’s hands are - and he flushes a satisfying pink when he realizes Claude has caught him looking. 

 

“Little exhibitionists they are,” he says by way of downplaying it, letting his own gaze land on them for a moment. Jordan’s hands clutch desperately at Ivan’s back, skidding over the jersey he hasn’t bothered to take off, and Claude can see the shift of Ivan’s muscles as he jerks Jordan off slow and steady. Valtteri shifts in his seat when Claude looks back at him and fiddles with his bag just to avoid eye contact. 

 

It’s risky, but Claude walks over to him and stops just short of being inside the other man’s personal space. “You played great. We’re glad to have you.” 

 

Valtteri looks up, sharp eyes searching Claude’s face before he nods in thanks. “I’m glad to be here.” 

 

A good, solid media answer. There’s a glimmer of insecurity in his expression, though, one that Claude’s used to seeing from rookies and trades. 

 

“I want to thank you. If that’s alright?” Claude tries to convey his intent, flicking his eyes toward the vague outline of Valtteri’s cock, and the deepening pink of the other players cheeks lets him know he’s managed. It’s not out of the norm, but clearly not what Valtteri’s expecting as he ducks his head. 

 

“You don’t - you’re the captain.” 

 

Claude shrugs, fighting not to cross his arms over himself. “I’m not special. You basically saved my ass out there.” 

 

Expressions flit across Valtteri’s face, and Claude’s almost sure he’s going to be turned down until Jordan comes with a loud moan behind them. Valtteri’s eyes flutter shut and - yeah. That’s definitely his cock pressing up against his sweats. 

 

“Let me,” he says softly. “You deserve it. Consider it a welcome.” 

 

Claude finally gets the nod he’s been waiting for and steps closer to sink to his knees between Valtteri’s legs. Nobody really looks or says anything even though Claude knows they’re probably watching. He swallows down the nerves; after all, Michal, Jake and Gudy are still at it over in the corner, not rushed at all even though they’re going to have to face the media eventually. 

 

Valtteri spreads his legs to make room for Claude, sliding toward the edge of his stall. It gives Claude enough room to pull his sweats and boxers down. He’s a little surprised when Valtteri lets him pull them all the way off, but it gives him the freedom to spread his legs wider so Claude can settle in close without the fabric in the way. 

 

Valtteri’s cock rests against his stomach at this angle. He’s mostly hard, firming up in Claude’s hand as he strokes him lightly. Claude starts at the bottom, lapping at Valtteri’s balls. He keeps his gaze on the other player’s face, trying to judge what’s working and what isn’t, as well as testing Valtteri’s restraint; he’s been choked one time too many by guys who couldn’t keep themselves in check when getting blown. Lean thighs flex and tighten, but Claude’s pleased when Valtteri holds himself still. 

 

Slipping his lips up, Claude sucks lightly along the underside of Valtteri’s dick. He hums a little when a hand lands in his hair, and Claude pauses in his progress to push up into it, giving silent permission for Valtteri to grip that he gently takes. Lapping at the soft head of Valtteri’s dick, Claude tries not to smile when the other player bites his lip. Instead, he takes his cock in, bobbing shallowly to get a feel for it in his mouth. 

 

Valtteri’s eyes are satisfyingly wide, cheeks flushed deep. His touch stays respectfully gentle, guiding without forcing and yeah. Claude’s gonna like this guy. He follows Valtteri’s lead, only protesting when he gags; Valtteri doesn’t try to make him go down that far again, just using Claude’s mouth shallowly. Claude hums and moans now and again in encouragement, spit clinging to the corners of his mouth. His knees ache a little, but he keeps his focus on the fingers in his hair and the cock in his mouth, the hazy look in bright blue eyes as Valtteri watches him. 

 

Moans mingle in the air, from Claude and Val, from the Czechs in the corner, and there’s a low murmuring he distantly recognizes as Provy. It’s Gudas that Val syncs with, the defenseman’s low grunting steadily picking up pace until Claude’s not so much sucking as just keeping his mouth soft and open for Valtteri to fuck into. 

 

Valtteri swears low in Finnish when Gudy comes. His fingers tighten in Claude’s hair and Claude can see his breath catch. “I’m - Do you want -” 

 

Claude sucks pointedly, dipping his head down. Valtteri’s eyes flutter shut, and Claude moans softly when bitter come streaks over his tongue. He swallows, sucking gently until Valtteri pulls him back enough that his cock slips from between his lips. Valtteri eases his grip, fingers brushing down Claude’s temple and cheek. 

 

“Thank you.” Valtteri’s gratifyingly breathless and it makes Claude grin even as he swipes at his mouth to clear away spit and come. He feels - not happy, per se, but better. Taking care of his team, making the new guys feel welcome, that’s as much a part of his job as captain as anything else in the locker room or out on the ice. 

 

Valtteri gives him a hand up, murmuring another quiet thanks before they separate to clean up. Mase is watching him from his stall, already showered and changed. He nods once at Claude, approving and that in itself is another huge weight off Claude’s chest. Claude packs up and heads out to do media, smiling at Valtteri when he slumps in relief as the reporters cut him loose and turn their attention on Claude. 

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts and have more content over at [tumblr](http://iaintafraidofnoghostbear.tumblr.com/).


End file.
